


You

by MadamRogers



Series: You [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, ben barnes - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, slowburning relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 00:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17632346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRogers/pseuds/MadamRogers
Summary: On your way to spend either the nicest or the worst day of the month, your gaze meets with a handsome stranger at stoplights, and this moment you share together has something you cannot stop thinking about. Will you ever see him again? Will he have a significant role in your life? What kind of a role exactly? And what will this flowershop you found cute but never had the chance to go in have to do with all this?





	1. On Your Left

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a moment I had by stoplights a few days before Christmas, but only loosely. Nothing happened, I never saw the young man again - and he looked very different from Ben, probably thankfully. I used artistic freedom to play a little. This was a funny thing to write, and I hope you enjoy and want to stay to read the rest of it!

It wasn’t up to you. If you could’ve had the last word, you would’ve chosen any other day than this one. Or, if you had another chance, you would’ve possibly refused. It was Monday, the streets were full even when it was hardly even noon and the snow covering the ground wasn’t nice and beautiful anymore; it was mean and treacherous, hiding ice under it. This ice had almost made you slip at least five times in a kilometer.

But it wasn’t up to you. Besides, you had nothing to do during the day; it was one of the lonely ones, so of course you had said yes.

Of course? What was that so called ‘of course’ anyway? Was it surrender, a pair of words said with true happiness or just… plain and meaningless? Whatever it was, it made you question the reasons behind it. You hadn’t seen them in a year and now they were coming to the city; two of your friends. Why were they in the city anyway?

They had said it. Yes, they had. But every time you thought of that conversation you had had with them, during which you had set the date for meeting each other, you just couldn’t remember it. It was maybe a bit rude, but your mind just couldn’t handle a big box of information at the same time, especially not during this time of the year.

It was Christmas soon. And Christmas, the rush hours, presents and food and that awful fuss about everything – even something so small as how your car was parked (you never knew when the uncle of your third cousin was going to slam his own SUV against it) – made your head spin and the only thing you wanted was to escape to Middle Earth for the holidays. No fuss, no running, no screaming about how the food looked wrong or how little David had forgotten his favorite toy at home and now everyone’s Christmas was ruined. You’d have cozy home time with the hobbits; eat as many breakfasts as you’d want to, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

That’s life.

You liked the family part. But if you said you liked all about Christmas, you lied; if you were Pinocchio, your nose would be about a meter long now. You didn’t like everything about Christmas.

Even less when you finally made it to the safety of a mall, away from that disastrous snow outside, and got pushed and poked no matter where you turned to. Everyone seemed to be so busy that they were running from place A to B like scared horses, and you who just tried to kill some time before seeing people you didn’t even know how to talk with anymore, got ran over. You felt like Simba in that scene of The Lion King. You hoped from the bottoms of your heart that Mufasa wasn’t coming to save you and going to die this time.

Since you had agreed on shopping with your two friends, you just walked through the mall, ordered a smoothie from a small booth and sat down to drink it. Diving in the perfect mixture of strawberries, apples and oranges with a hint of pineapple, all that accompanied by ice, you could finally breathe. Curled up on your very own little corner, you watched how people rushed around the mall like ants. You even peeked over the railing down to the other floor to see a lot similar chaos going on down there.

The calmness of your corner gave you some time for yourself, and you used that time well: refusing to think about everything else and not about your friends and this busy time of the year. It didn’t leave much to think of; your mind had been so full of both of those things for the past few days that you doubted your skills of thinking about anything else. Shaking those thoughts from your head was a lot harder than you could’ve expected.

So, you decided to focus on your smoothie. Sucking on the straw so hard your cheeks hollowed, you looked down at the cup. Strawberries made the smoothie red and crushed ice went straight to your head. You welcomed it happily; it was pleasant to feel something cold going to your head after headless running and being the victim of so many pushes. There was probably going to be a few bruises on your upper arms.

You dropped the cup in the trash, thanked the girls behind the booth and started to make it towards the doors. But in the middle of walking you decided to turn around. You had no idea why; maybe it was that unpleasant, suspicious group of young men close to the other door or maybe just the knowledge of the amount of people outside. You chose the door you hadn’t used in ages; you had been at the mall a few times every once in a while and always used the door where you were at first heading to. But not this time; now you chose the other door. It got you to the other end of the street, and it indeed was much quieter.

You got hit by the smell of an old cigarette and giggling of a few school girls who walked past you when you looked around, but they weren’t enough to bother you. Not now that after a few meters you didn’t even smell the cigarette anymore and there was enough room for you to breathe properly. Probably for the last time in a few hours.

Now you remembered why you had forgotten the reason your friends were in town. You were so focused on getting enough breaths in that you were momentarily deaf.

Some people just had that effect on you. Some people just had that kind of energy. You were a bit stressed out because of that; you knew something was going to happen anyway. And still – mentally banging your head against the wall – you were doing this.

What the f-word were you thinking?

“Dad, it’s Christmas soon! You cannot say that!” a young girl, probably heading home from school, whined on the phone as she walked past you. She looked like she was talking about something very important, and you followed her with your eyes, smiling warmly.

You wished you could be a child once again. Christmas was something exciting and wonderful, something you looked forward to for months in advance. Now it was just… It didn’t feel the same, not at all. And it was the saddest part of all this.

Without noticing it yourself, you had stopped to look at the girl. You didn’t actually even see her anymore; you saw your thoughts and memories like a film in front of your eyes. All those family Christmases, the laughter and happiness, the presents you got that made you feel you were the happiest little girl on the planet, delicious food, snowflakes dancing behind the window, you heard the songs, cars outside, doorbell ringing…

You shook your head to get out of the bubble. The snow on the streets made the world seem a lot brighter in your focused eyes and you sniffed in the winter air. You could see the people on the other end of the street, by the stoplights there. You could’ve been one of them, disappearing into the crowd and never really been noticed by anyone. You could go where you were going without having to think, just following the people ahead of you, occasionally walking past one or two. You could be a part of the zombie herd.

But here, on your end, it was so quiet that every step you took sounded like a bang. They cracked a little on the snow as you walked towards the stoplights to get to the other side of the street. Then you could turn to the right and just head to where you were going to go to without having to worry about other people for a few more meters.

You walked to the corner, just by the lights and your gaze landed on the red light that told you it wasn’t your turn just yet. Listening to the beeping noise the lights made, you let your gaze drop down and land somewhere on the other side in front of you; a jewellery shop, an underground pub for gaming, a little alleyway, bus stops and…

He was standing on the other corner, by the lamp-post on your left. There was precisely five or six meters between you and him, and he was looking at the other side just like you were. Only that when you turned to see him, he had turned to see you only a second ago.

He had dark eyes and his hair was almost as dark; it was a bit out of place now in the wind, lifting itself up on top of his head. He was handsome, but not in the way people would describe handsomeness. His features were more beautiful; he looked like one of those sculptures in the museums and books about the history of art. He was so pure. Pure in the way that made you want to just look at him without any purpose of being impolite. Everything in him was beautiful. His black coat and a woolen scarf covering his neck, that stubble he had ignored for a few days, his eyes that joined in the smile he gave you.

You found yourself smiling back. It made his gaze drop down on the snow until it rose back to you. His cheeks were a little red now and you found yourself feeling a little sorry for him being cold. But he didn’t try to pull the collars up or readjust his scarf; he just sucked on his lips and let himself smile to you. His gaze kept wandering away from you and back until it stayed on you, cheeks still red. It stayed for a long while.

And you couldn’t look away from him.

You felt this unfamiliar but yet somehow so familiar and safe warmth flowing from your head all the way down to your toes. Something jumped under your heart. You almost put your hand over your heart; the calmness of his presence, how his eyes were keeping you here on this very spot, on this very moment… It wasn’t distressing at all. Usually you felt anxious when someone looked at you, but not when he did it. He calmed your noisy brain down.

There was something in him. He was something solid to lean against, even if it happened just mentally. And with the way he kept looking at you with that small, friendly smile on his lips, you could almost tell he felt the same.

It wasn’t love, no. Life’s not a romantic movie. But life is full of moments like this, moments that stay, lingering in your mind for a long time and make you wonder why.

They always say you meet some people just to hear something from them. They come to teach or tell you something and then they leave. The light turned to green and the beeping changed into this almost imperative sound, and you started to walk at the same time with him.

He looked at you when he walked. You turned to the right, but he turned to the left and at the same time turned his head. The last look he gave you was like a goodbye without words. Then he hid his bare hands in the pockets of his black coat and walked away.

You didn’t remember did you smile to him once more or just looked at him, but you didn’t look over your shoulder. The moment was too pretty to be ruined. But what if he was looking over his own shoulder? What if you missed the very last gaze because you refused to do it like in movies?

You didn’t look.

Your gaze got stuck on a cute little chalkboard by a door that told you that you were permitted to come in and admire. The door lead to a flower shop you were sure you had never seen before. It had moss and plants behind the window, a very living-like squirrel statue in the middle of it. You saw a woman walking there with a big vase full of white tulips.

You had just gotten the idea of going inside, but your phone binged with a message.

Will be there in fifteen!

That was just… Why now?

You had just enough time to go to the bookstore you had given yourself a permission to go to. With a sad look you sighed at the door and almost ran to the next stoplights.

When you came back, after finding nothing from the bookstore, to meet your friends at a café, you found yourself looking for the man. You took the busy stoplights this time, since they were closer, but you hated yourself a little for that.

You were possibly missing your chance. Did you want to see him again? If so, then why? To thank him, to talk to him? Just to look at him for a moment, to reminisce the earlier?

There had been something in that moment. Something you knew you weren’t going to forget.


	2. A Three Letter Word

Just a few days after New Year’s you found yourself back there at the mall. Walking around gave back the moments, how you couldn’t be sure what you should be actually feeling about all of it. It had been awkward. It had been you listening to them. It hadn’t been like the old days but at the same time, that’s exactly what it had been.

And when you finally got back home in the evening, you found a blaming thought from the back of your spent and tired mind.

You should have turned around.

But would it have been able to change anything? Would it have made a difference?

Knowing that this time you could be on your own, without people who still dared to call themselves your friends, your mind was at ease. This time it was a lot nicer. People were still busy, this time because of the sales, but it was different. Even the snow outside was friendlier.

You felt good. Now that you had shaken all those thoughts and self-blames off. It wasn’t part of your character to dwell in self-pity for longer than it was necessary; and often it even wasn’t. All emotional pain lasts for twelve minutes, anything longer than that comes from your head. The one who had said that had been wise. You walked past the booth where you had bought the smoothie last time and smiled to yourself. This time you just walked past it and took the busy door to get outside.

At the same time as the snow was friendlier now, it had gotten more beautiful. It wasn’t treacherous or cruel, this time it was soft and sweet, almost a bit too friendly to be so cold after all. You saw those glimmering diamonds on the trees, like from a storybook. Your steps were still cracking on the snow, the funny sound that filled the air as people walked by, to the left, to the right, to every single compass point to get where they had to be.

You went to that bookstore again. It was a lot warmer inside than out in the cold winter wind, but it was also harder to breathe. Wind gave you a lot of air to breathe, even though some of it made you cough, but inside, in the middle of people, it was harder. Not too hard; it was never too hard to breathe in a bookstore. A friendly looking woman, who you hadn’t seen before, greeted you asking did you need any help.

“No, thank you, I’m just looking,” you told her with a warm smile.

“Of course, take your time. Ask if you need anything,” she added and walked away.

You nodded and turned away before she had properly left. Your fingers touched many books, but none of them seemed right. Maybe it was because of the busy people around you, but you couldn’t put your mind in the mode of finding a new book to read. It was often hard, especially after reading a very good one. Then it was practically impossible. Your mind gathered titles and authors for rain checks, but you ended up leaving without a new friend.

That didn’t bother you too much. You had made the decision to go in the flower shop today. Its beauty had kept lingering in your head for all those days, the text on the chalkboard.

Come in and admire.

This was a good day for admiring. With your mind at ease, you really felt it was. Perhaps you could find a pretty flower to get home with you…

You walked all the way from the bookstore to the stoplights that’d take you to the flower shop’s street. The street where you had parted your ways with him.

He had visited your thoughts every now and then. He wasn’t filling your thoughts, not in that certain way at least. You remembered his smile with warmth. Those eyes that were so dark they could’ve been gates to whole new worlds. That moment you had shared together.

That moment had made you think that maybe, just maybe, every single day had something good in it. Every single day had something worth remembering, worth appreciating because in the end, the small things mattered. Not the big picture; it was often messy and turned around after some time.

People remembered little things so rarely. A look shared with someone, that smile from the bus driver when you thank him, a cute dog, those small laughs, different tones in them or just a single word someone says to you. People want to believe that big things in life matter more. When the truth is that the small things matter just as much, even more. People should learn to understand the power of small things.

You crossed the street with an older man and a woman with a Papillon. It kept looking up at you like it had just met a new friend, and you couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips. The small dog’s cute face, its big ears made you almost touch it but you were able to keep your hands to yourself; you walked right next to the dog when you crossed the street. The woman smiled to you.

“Bailey loves everyone,” she told you. She was about your mother’s age, very sweet woman who seemingly loved her dog very much. “She has been looking at you like that for a while now.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” your eyes found Bailey when you made it to the other side of the stoplights. The woman stopped, and Bailey stopped right in front of you, eyes telling she wanted you to pet her. Her small tail started wagging happily as you finally crouched down in front of her.

She was very happy when you gave her number of pets. Both of your hands caressing her soft coat, you babbled to her all kinds of little praises and told her how cute she was. Bailey kept making those cute sounds, partly whining and partly almost laughing. She danced on her small paws, made a circle and then came back to dance in front of you.

“Yes, you’re cute! You’re so very cute!” you babbled to her, fingers nearly disappearing in the middle of her white fur. The brown parts of her head were almost red like a fox and she even looked like a fox.

When you finally had to get up, Bailey started to dance around in circles. The woman with her laughed just as fondly as you did.

“How old is she?” you asked.

“Two and a half. She’s my granddaughter’s dog but lives with me and my husband. The girl can’t take her home but she wanted a dog, so I thought why don’t we take one for her.”

“That’s sweet,” you said, giving Bailey another pet between her ears. If she was any quicker, she would’ve been able to lick your palm.

“She’s just like that with everyone. Everyone is a potential friend.”

“Of course,” you looked down at jumping and dancing Bailey. “She never stops, huh?”

“No,” the woman chuckled, “she could go on for days. And I don’t think she’ll stop then, either. She stops only to eat and sleep. When my granddaughter comes over, they’re restless together. She’s four. I don’t know does Bailey transmit that to her or the other way around.”

“She’s a sweetie,” you smiled to the dog.

“She is. But we should probably head home. It was nice to meet you.”

“Yes. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again, who knows?”

“Yeah, who knows? Bailey will recognize you from now on.”

You gave her a small laugh and caressed Bailey’s head once more before started to walk again. You had to look over your shoulder to see how Bailey scuttled next to the woman and really looked at every single person very fondly. That dog was so full of love.

You were closer to the door than you thought. The chalkboard was by it again with the exact same text as last time.

Come in and admire.

You saw the squirrel statue in the middle of moss and plants. Someone had added fake snow; you didn’t know what it was made of but it looked very real. It just couldn’t be real, it’d melt. The same woman walked inside the shop, this time without a vase. You could see the white tulips by the counter.

What you didn’t see was that the ground was slippery just before the door. You didn’t see the small sign by the chalkboard that told you to watch your steps.

But someone was there just in time to save you. The door of the shop opened when your foot slipped, you saw a hand and fell against a soft, black coat. An arm wrapped itself around you and you heard a male voice talking somewhere by your head. A bit husky voice but still so soft and caring, almost caressing your ears. There was worry in it, enough that you heard it in the middle of his British accent.

“Whoa, easy… You didn’t see the sign?”

You turned your head a little to meet his eyes as you were going to answer but your mouth just opened.

The same dark eyes, the same messy hair, even the same woolen scarf around his neck and the coat you were leaning against was the one he had had on the last time.

It was him. And that was the only thing you got out of your mouth.

“You…”

He looked confused for a moment but then it hit him. You could see the realization in his eyes.

He saw that moment by the stoplights before Christmas, the girl on the other side, almost against the pole of the lights. How you had smiled to him, and he had thought you had caught him looking at you for a bit too long. He felt the same warmth on his cheeks now too, hoping it wasn’t visible.

“You,” he repeated your word, voice even softer than before. His arm was still around you, now more staying against you than holding you up. “Are you… are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” he forced himself to speak. He knew he’d get stuck in this odd moment if he didn’t. Blinking his eyes he let the words get free, righting his body a little to touch your shoulder with his free hand.

The way he cared… He didn’t need to, he was just a stranger, and you were another stranger who almost fell right in front of a door. It was touching, filled you with the same warmth as his smile and glances last time.

This man was one of the good ones.

“I’m… I’m fine. Without you, I would be on the ground. Thank you for saving me.”

You could see how his smile changed a bit. He was so humble that you were sure you saw… Was he blushing?

“No, it’s nothing. What kind of a man would I be if I just watched a woman falling?” he chuckled a little. You had to join in, let your eyebrows jump a little in agreement. His hand on your shoulder slid down to your upper arm. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

You nodded when he started to make a caressing movement on your upper arm. “I’m fine, really. I’m sure,” you added the last words when he looked at you, blinking his eyes again. It made his chuckles sound like breathed titters. “Just… I’m not used to falling in someone’s arms instead of on the hard ground.”

He loosened his grip of you, arm still around your form. “If it eases your pain a bit, I’m not the one who saves women every day. I think the feeling’s mutual.”

His cheeks were still slightly pink. And with the way you looked at him, he knew the warmth was visible.

He had just never thought he’d see you again. You… He noticed that he would’ve liked a name more than just a pronoun but didn’t dare to ask. It would’ve been a bit too pushy. And this was the moment for being pushy.

You gave him an assuring smile. “Thank you for saving me anyway. It was my luck that you were coming out of…” The ending was left hanging in the air between the two of you as you swallowed.

“The flower shop. Yeah, why?” he frowned a little, more asking than anything else.

“Nothing, I just…” you shook your head a little as if it was full of buzzing you wanted to get rid of. “I was just wondering… We keep meeting on the almost same spot.”

He gave a titter to that. “Oh… I thought you were going to tell how my masculinity dripped because I came out of a flower shop… I hope you don’t think it’s unmanly of me to like flowers,” he was blinking again, humble as he was.

“No, it’s not unmanly at all…” You shook your head a little again. “It’s actually… It’s quite… cute.”

He looked down at you and the redness of his cheeks became deeper. It was harder and harder for you to look away from him. He was even more beautiful when he was close to you, you could see every single flaw, but he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He let go of you slowly, as if he was worrying you might end up falling on your first step, but kept his gaze on you.

“Thank you,” he was late with that, but it didn’t bother you. It bothered him, though. This moment was very bizarre; literally just meters away from the place you had met for the first time. If he left now, would he meet you by those other stoplights next time? He didn’t want to try.

“Didn’t you find anything?” you noticed only now that his hands were empty.

“No,” it was his turn to shake his head with a kind smile on his lips, “I wasn’t looking for anything, just wandering around. I hope you could find something nice, though. They have very pretty white tulips in a vase…”

His voice drifted away. He was babbling. He kept that kind smile on to make it seem like his sentence ended there. It really ended there.

“Sounds beautiful… I have to take a look at them. I was hoping I could find something nice to take home with me.”

“The tulips are really nice. Just make sure you don’t let them freeze.”

“I won’t let them…”

You looked at him nodding once. He sucked on his lips a little. And when he stopped, the same smile remained. And his gaze remained on you…

You had to get out of this situation before something happened, something you’d regret till the end of your days. As much as leaving now made you feel bad.

“I think I’ll go inside now,” you said and pointed at the door with your finger.

He almost jumped back to give you more space as if he was waking up from his thoughts. “Yes, that’s a good choice. It’s much safer inside. Mind your steps when you come back outside.”

“I will. Thank you again,” you smiled and reached for his forearm to touch. It was a thanking gesture, and thankfully he got the meaning of it. He nodded and let you walk towards the door, following your careful steps with his eyes.

Before he had the chance, you spoke: “It was nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” he never stopped smiling. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“If you like flowers and I’m just about to get inside for the first time… Yeah, I think we might.”

He chuckled a little. “Till the next time, then.”

“Yeah… Bye and thank you.”

“It’s fine, really,” he took a few steps but kept his gaze on you. “Bye.”

You opened the door and went inside, and he started to walk.

At the end of the street he realized he had totally forgotten to ask your name. All he still had was the pronoun, you were still…

You.


End file.
